The night air was cold against Lani's skin as she walked briskly down the empty street, her heart still pounding from her narrow escape. Her mind was a whirlwind, trying to process everything that had happened, but the sharp sting of betrayal from Vanessa was a constant ache in the back of her mind. She needed to think, to clear her head.
She kept walking, her thoughts a blur, until she found herself at a bar she didn't recognize. The neon lights flickered overhead, casting an almost eerie glow on the darkened street. She hadn't planned on going in, but something about the dimly lit establishment called to her. She needed something, anything, to numb the chaos swirling inside her.
Lani pushed the door open, and the low hum of music hit her like a wave. The bar was almost empty, save for a few patrons scattered around. She made her way to the counter, the bartender greeting her with a nod.
"What can I get you?" he asked, his voice calm and disinterested.
"A glass of wine," she said, her voice hoarse from the adrenaline of her escape.
As the bartender poured the wine, Lani scanned the room, her eyes settling on a man hunched over in a corner booth. His face was obscured by the shadows, and his body language suggested a man lost in his own world. His heavy breathing and the empty bottles scattered around him told the story of someone who had clearly had too much to drink.
Lani didn't know why, but something about him drew her in. She wasn't looking for anything or anyone, but at that moment, she just needed to escape, even if it was only for a few hours. Her thoughts were too loud, too overwhelming. She needed silence.
She grabbed her glass and made her way over to the booth, sitting across from him without a word. The man didn't look up at first, too drunk to notice her presence. Lani didn't care. She just needed to feel something different for a moment.
"Having a rough night?" she asked softly, her voice barely rising above the hum of the bar.
He didn't respond at first, his eyes closed as he leaned back, swaying slightly. Then, after a few seconds, he finally raised his head, his blurry eyes locking onto hers. She couldn't make out much of his features—the darkness obscured them too much—but she could tell he wasn't in any condition to have a conversation.
Lani's chest tightened as she stared at him, an unfamiliar sense of connection pulling at her. She had no idea why, but she didn't want to be alone tonight. She didn't want to think. She just wanted to escape the reality of everything she had just experienced.
The man let out a low laugh, his voice raspy. "You come here often?" he slurred, his gaze unfocused but intense in a way that made Lani's pulse quicken.
"No," she said, shaking her head, a small laugh escaping her lips. "I'm just… passing through."
For a moment, there was a silence between them, thick and heavy. The noise of the bar seemed to fade into the background as Lani's mind momentarily quieted.
"You look like you could use a drink," the man muttered, his hand reaching out and grabbing the glass in front of him. He took a long gulp, nearly choking on it before setting the glass back down. His movements were sluggish, as if every action took tremendous effort.
Lani studied him for a moment longer, her thoughts a jumble of conflicting emotions. She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't even be talking to him. But for once, she didn't care. She wanted to forget everything.
Without another word, she slid out of her seat and moved beside him, sitting next to him in the booth. He didn't seem to protest, his body language too limp to push her away. For a moment, they sat in silence, the space between them charged in a way Lani couldn't explain.
The next few minutes felt like a blur. Words were exchanged, but neither of them could remember much of what was said. The stranger's touch was rough, his hands uncertain as he pulled her closer. Lani didn't stop him, too lost in the haze of the moment to care. It was nothing but heat and need, a fleeting connection to forget the mess of her life. It was a mistake, but in that moment, she didn't care.
They didn't speak much more after that. His face remained hidden in the shadows, his breath warm against her skin. His movements were clumsy, drunken, and Lani didn't care to see his face clearly—his anonymity was part of the appeal. It wasn't about him. It wasn't about them. It was about forgetting, about shutting off her mind, about silencing the overwhelming noise that had been rattling in.
---
Lani closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself sink into the numbness. She didn't want to think about Vanessa, about what had just happened, about the choices that had led her here. For the first time in hours, the noise in her head quieted, replaced by the steady rhythm of the stranger's breathing beside her.
But then, he shifted.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "You ever get that feeling," he murmured, voice rough from too much alcohol, "like you don't know who you are anymore?"
Lani turned her head slightly, surprised he was speaking. She had expected him to stay lost in his drunken haze, but there was something raw in his voice, something that struck a nerve.
"Yeah," she admitted after a moment. "I know exactly what that feels like."
The man let out a bitter laugh. "Then you get it. You try to outrun it, drink it away, but it's still there when you wake up." He tapped his fingers against the glass in front of him, as if debating whether to take another sip. "No matter how far you go, you're still stuck with yourself."
Lani exhaled, staring down at her own untouched drink. "Yeah," she said again, softer this time.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable—it was just there, heavy but not suffocating.
Then, he turned his head toward her, his eyes still bleary but filled with something she couldn't quite place. "What are you running from?"
Lani hesitated. The truth sat on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it down. She didn't know this man, and he didn't know her. That was the appeal of this moment—no past, no expectations, just two strangers in a bar.
She forced a small smirk, raising her glass. "Nothing a drink won't fix."
He huffed out a quiet laugh, lifting his own glass in return. "To bad decisions, then."
"To bad decisions," she echoed, clinking her glass against his before taking a sip.
The alcohol burned down her throat, but it was nothing compared to the firestorm of emotions inside her.
Maybe tomorrow, she'd deal with reality.
But tonight, she was just another lost soul, sitting across from a stranger, pretending that, for a little while, she could be someone else.
---
Lani woke to the sound of a distant car horn outside, her body stiff against the unfamiliar sheets. The dim light filtering through the dusty motel curtains did little to ease the pounding in her head. She groaned softly, rolling onto her side—only to freeze.
The other side of the bed was empty, but the sheets were rumpled, still warm. Someone had been there.
And then, like a jolt to her system, flashes of the night before slammed into her.
The bar. The stranger. The heat between them.
His hands on her waist, his lips grazing her skin, the rough desperation in the way they had clung to each other as if they were both drowning.
It hadn't been love. It hadn't even been romance. It had been something raw, something fleeting. A way to forget.
Lani squeezed her eyes shut, her heart racing. What have I done?
Her fingers tightened around the thin motel sheet as she forced herself to sit up. The air in the room was heavy with the remnants of last night—whiskey, cheap cologne, and something unmistakably him. But he was gone.
Then, she saw it.
A folded piece of paper on the nightstand.
She reached for it with hesitant fingers, her pulse quickening as she unfolded the note. The handwriting was rough, almost hurried, but legible.
You needed an escape. So did I. No regrets. No names. Just a night.
Plus,
You talk in your sleep, by the way.
Her breath caught.
What the hell had she said?
Lani's hands trembled slightly as she read the words again, searching for something—anything—that would anchor her to reality. But the note only left her with more questions.
She had no name. No face she could clearly remember. Just the lingering feel of his touch and the ghost of his breath against her skin.
And yet, deep down, she knew.
This wasn't over.
Lani's heart pounded as she crumpled the note in her fist.
No names. No regrets. Just a night.
It should have made her feel better. Should have reassured her that this stranger wasn't going to cause problems for her. But instead, a new kind of panic settled deep in her chest.
She couldn't be here.
If anyone found out—if even one camera caught her slipping out of this place—her life would unravel. The headlines would write themselves. Her father would kill her.
She threw the blankets off and scrambled out of bed, wincing as her bare feet hit the cold floor. Her dress from the night before was draped over a chair, slightly wrinkled, but still intact. At least she hadn't done anything too reckless. Right?
But then she caught her reflection in the motel mirror.
Her lips were swollen. Her collarbone bore the faintest mark of where his mouth had been.
Heat curled in her stomach.
Get out of here, Lani. Now.
She dressed quickly, barely glancing around the room before grabbing her purse and phone. Peeking through the blinds, she checked the parking lot. Empty. No paparazzi. No one waiting to drag her name through the mud.
Good.
Pulling the motel door open, she slipped out, moving as fast as she could without looking suspicious. She called for a car the moment she turned the corner, her fingers still shaking as she pressed the phone to her ear.
By the time she reached her house—her real world—her heart still hadn't settled.
The Carlisle estate was quiet as she slipped inside. No one had noticed her absence. No one had any idea what she had done.
She exhaled sharply and made her way straight to her bathroom, shedding her clothes before stepping into the shower.
The hot water should have washed it all away.
The fear. The tension. The feeling of his hands on her skin.
But it didn't.
Instead, as the steam curled around her, she closed her eyes—and she felt him.
The press of his body against hers. The heat in his breath when he murmured something against her throat. The rough desperation in the way they had clung to each other.
Lani's breath hitched.
It should have disgusted her. She should have regretted every second of it.
But instead, standing under the water, her fingers ghosting over the places he had touched, she felt something else entirely.
A shiver that had nothing to do with fear.
A longing that she shouldn't have.
And worst of all—
The quiet, dangerous thought that maybe, just maybe…
She didn't want this to be the last time.